


What's in a name? (Captain America's such a mouthful)

by ariadne_odair



Series: baby, be my downfall [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, POV Outsider, Reminiscing, Stephanie Rogers - Freeform, sorta a 5+1?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1192224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/pseuds/ariadne_odair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three names Stephanie Rogers acquires, and the one that meant the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's in a name? (Captain America's such a mouthful)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [隊長的一百零一種暱稱](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1857954) by [Cyaegha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyaegha/pseuds/Cyaegha)



> It's been a loooonngg time since I've written Stephanie verse. That's so weird, but I blame Harry Styles.
> 
> So this is part three of the series, but it's only a little one shot. It's set before winter soldier, but only about a month after the Avengers. So they all hang out but haven't officially assembled.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Tony call her a lot of things, none of them flattering, and all of them some form of offense.

He calls her 'princess,' and 'cappuccino,' and 'iced bun,' and 'spangled hot pants,' and on one occasion, 'Miss USA,' which Stevie punched him for.

Tony's sitting in the gym at Stark Tower - not that he'd ever actively choose to do exercise in front of any of the Avengers, because they're all  _unfairly_  attractive when they sweat.

However, athleticism - or rather lack of - isn't a good enough reason not to ogle Stevie when she's working out. Hey, Tony never claimed to have integrity. That's what he pays people for.

"I know you're watching me," Stevie calls, without turning round, blond ponytail flicking back and forth as she pummels the punching bag.

"Not trying to be subtle, princess," Tony calls back, because, again, shame is something you pay people for.

Plus, he's not getting into a battle of morals with Captain America. It's not even because Stevie's a clean cut do gooder - too many people make the mistake of thinking she's all apple pie goodness because she comes from the 40's.

Like, hello? Stevie's probably even more fucked up than Tony. She's an orphan, she's from one of the grittiest times in history, and people expect her to golly gee her way through the 21st century.

Tony made that mistake once, and he and his ego surely regretted it, along with other sensitive appendages.

"I'm not a princess," Stevie calls back, snapping Tony out of his painful memories.

"Kinda are, Capsicle," Tony smirks, and Stevie pauses in her administrations of punching bag abuse. She turns to him, raising one eyebrow, not a perfectly blond hair out of place.

"Why do you call me that?" Stevie says softly, and she's got this look on her face, one Tony can't quite place.

"I don't know," Tony replies hesitantly. He feels a little off. "I guess - guess it should be queen, really. Because you're the leader, and you sorta exude eminence. It's a nick name."

Stevie nods, blue eyes thoughtful. Tony still feels a little off, like he's missed something. He clears his throat. "They have those in the 40s?"

"Yeah, I guess they did," Stevie says lowly, and then turns back around, redoubling her efforts.

The bag crashes to the floor, and Tony leaves after a while.

 

 

Clint calls her 'Stephanie.'

He's not even sure why. There's probably some psychological shit behind it, something about Clint never revealing his real name, so he thinks other people shouldn't either.

He tries to explain this to Natasha, but she just gives him a funny look and says, "Your little crush is pathetic," and keeps sharpening her knives.

Which. Uncalled for, Tash, because he hasn't got a crush on Captain America, thank you very much. He just - just likes Stevie. _  
_

It's not even about the way she looks - though the specimen of human perfection part is hard to miss - it's more the fact that she's _nice._  And has a really dry sense of humour. And she's really smart, smarter than Tony sometimes.

He, Tash and Stevie all meet up for coffee one day. It's only a month or so after New York, and the street the coffee shop's on has matinence men working on it. There's large splats of tarmac that weren't there before, covering cracks and holes.

"Hey," Stevie says when she sees them. The sun's shining through the coffee shop window, and it makes Stevie's hair glow. Like in  _Tangled._ Which Clint has never watched. Obviously.

"Hey, Stephanie," Clint blurts out, because he has no motor control, but Stevie just laughs. It's odd just chilling in a coffee shop, their seemingly mundane chatter juxtaposed to the content of their conversation.

Stevie is completely disengaged from SHIELD - which Clint can't blame her for, and when he sees the slight bounce in her step, it's enough to make him consider it, too. He's officially on 'recuperation leave,' but he's considering making that permanent.

He's not sure about Tash, and he's not asking, but he's not sure that SHIELD life is for her anymore, either.

Stevie waves at them when she gets up to leave, off to terrify mere, ugly mortals, no doubt. Clint waves too, and says "Bye, Stephanie,"  _again._

Stevie just shakes her head, and says "Bye,  _Clinton."_

Clint gawks at her, then turns to Natasha. "She called me Clinton. That's a thing. Me and Captain America have a thing. A nick name thing."

Natasha raises one, perfectly shaped eyebrow, and blows delicately on her tea. "You're deluded."

 

It becomes a thing.

 

 

"Do you have a middle name?" Stevie asks Natasha.

Natasha glances at her, crossing her legs at the ankles. Stevie is cooking dinner, some kinda of pasta dish. She'd asked Natasha if she wanted to meet up.

It's something Stevie does, Natasha notes. Pull people closer until they're exactly where they want to be. They don't even notice she's doing it. Natasha isn't even sure Stevie knows she's doing it.

"Why?" Natasha asks, and her tone is icy to her own ears.

Names are not something to be carelessly thrown away. Names are money and currency and culture and  _secrets_ all rolled into one, a slip of syllables that cause blood and destruction.

"I don't know," Stevie shrugs, "Just curious, I guess. I asked Clint, and he said his was 'Clinton Katniss Legolas Merida King Of All Archers."

"That's not it," Natasha says with a straight face, and Stevie laughs.

"Natalia," Natasha says quietly, and Stevie turns to her, pretty bow lips parted in confusion. "It's not my middle name," Natasha explains carefully, "But it's - more authentic than Natasha."

"Natasha is like the - Americanized version?" Stevie asks cautiously, and Natasha nods, but says no more.

"If it's any consolation," Stevie says slowly, "I'm pretty sure you can't get more Americanized than Captain America."

Natasha laughs, surprised by herself, and lets out a small smile. "Just Stevie is fine for me."

"Me too," Stevie laughs, and if it doesn't quite reach her eyes, then. Well. We all have secrets.

 

_1939 Brooklyn_

  
"Stevie. Stevie, you have to get up."

No, she really doesn't. Stevie doesn't ever want to get up. In fact, Stevie would like to stay here in her small bed, with her worn pillow, and sleep until forever. Someone is shaking her shoulder, hand calloused and warm, and Stevie groans.

"Stevie, c'mon. You said you wanted to go sketch in the park today. Some crap about the sunset."

Damn. Stevie hates when Bucky is actually  _reasonable_. 

"Yeah, okay," Stevie mumbles, face pressed into the pillow. She still can feel the drag of sleep against her eyelids, the tempting lull of oblivion that only sleep can bring.

"Five minutes more," Bucky murmurs, and he leans down, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, airy and light. "Seriously, you'll kick yourself if you don't get any drawing done, sweetheart."

Stevie makes a non commital noise, and snuggles further down into the covers. The weight lifts from the bed, and there's the click of the door. Stevie smiles to herself, warmth spreading through her.

_Sweetheart._

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
